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The World Left Behind: Ab Hinc
Southern Pan-Africa July 21, 2032 Hunter awoke, his head pounding and his body sore. That was porbably the crash's effects reverberting through his system, but still he felt as if he had been hit by a car, then again for all intense and purposes he had been. Hunter looked around, he was holding a sidearm in his hand, looked like an old M1911, and he was propped up against a tree. Looking over himself, he was missing his helmet and a few pieces of armor, along with this he was covered in scrapes and bruises and a few gashes that were surprisingly stitched and covered. It didn't take Hunter long to figure out that he was not the one who did this to himself. He looked around trying to find anyone, but to his slight dismay he didn't see anyone around. Hunter tried to stand, might as well get away from wherever he was and try to find civilization, but he couldn't. An intense pain shot up his leg, one that he had felt before, he sat himself back down realizing that walking on a broken leg probably wasn't the smartest thing to do in enemy territory, if indeed that is still where he was at. Hunter tried to remember what happened, the helicopter went down, he remembered that, but he didn't remember how he got here. Did someone from the crash carry him? Or was he in enemy hands? He was left a sidearm, which made him think that the former was the correct answer. What kind of soldier gives their enemy a weapon? Hunter heard something rustling nearby, movement in the tall grass. He readied his sidearm in the direction that it came from, trying to pinpoint the person or thing in the tall grass and bushes. The rustling got closer and Hunter pulled the hammer back on the gun, he was ready for whatever popped through the grass, he was trained for situations like this in most instances. Finally, a man came through the grass and bushes into the small clearing that Hunter inhabited, he was average height and had light brown hair, he too was covered in scrapes and brusies with gashes running up and down his body. Hunter knew this man, he had been on the helicopter with him when they had been sent on the mission. "Joseph?" asked Hunter, lowering his gun to his side, though it sounded more like 'Yosef" due to the accent that Hunter had. "Close enough, how you doin' Ruski?" asked Joseph as he fully moved into the clearing, a heavy bag on his back filled with something. "Better, I think, what happened?" asked Hunter, hoping to get a better idea of what happened after the crash. "Well, we crashed, that much is easy to conclude, I woke a few minutes after and walked around the crash trying to find some survivors, there were a few, but you were the first I saw so I grabbed you, found a clearing and sat you down and went back for more," said Joseph sitting down in the clearing unpacking the back which mostly had dogtags, medical supplies, and some food and water. "Where are everyone?" said Hunter, he looked confused where could everyone else be. "First off, it is is not ''are ''and second, they're dead. I saw what looked like a missle slam into the crash site," said Joseph as he held up the dogtags, many of them burnt badly. "Who?" asked Hunter, slightly embarrased about the slip upin English. "Not to sure, maybe the Rebels? Whoever did it knew where we were and sure as hell had some backup," responded Joseph, still remembering the heat of the explosion that wiped out the rest of Hunter and his squads. "So what now?" asked Hunter, he knew the stakes now, they were in enemy territory with no help besides eachother and even they were separated by different tactics ad even languages. "Now...We move on,"